


you spin my head right round (right round)

by theauthorish



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24616354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: “So…?” Dongmyeong sings obnoxiously, as soon as his brother is out of earshot. “When are you gonna tell ‘im?”“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Geonhak, because it’s true. He has no idea at all what Dongmyeong is referring to, so out of the blue. “Who am I supposed to be telling? What am I supposed to be telling?”Dongmyeong just gives him a sly look. Geonhak is absolutely befuddled. “You know what I mean.”“I really don’t,” Geonhak insists, handing off another plate for him to dry. “Really.”Dongmyeong pouts. “You’re just saying that.”
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 192





	you spin my head right round (right round)

**Author's Note:**

> So. This was a funny fic because it's actually set in an ateez au I have planned, but rather than writing the ateez part first... this happened. lol. enjoy!!!

Someone comes into the kitchen, but Geonhak doesn't even need to raise his head from the dough he's kneading to know who it is. "Top shelf. Make sure you warm it first," he says. 

Dongju makes a small sound of delight, and bounces up on his toes to reach the pastry Geonhak has Seoho-d— er,  _ squirreled _ away for him, his favorite egg tart, the one that always sells out before his break.

Geonhak, very pointedly, keeps his back turned, head ducked, and focuses on his hands where they're folding and pressing and refolding what will eventually be bread for the cafe's sandwiches. He doesn't care one iota about how cute Dongju must look, because Dongju always looks cute when he decides to be, or when he's happy with something.

"Geonhakie-hyung," says Dongju, voice muffled around what Geonhak knows is a bite of the tart. Not warmed. He sighs; it's good either way, he knows, but it tastes  _ best _ warm, and he's nothing if not competitive with himself. He'd much prefer it if Dongju tasted it at it's best.

Then again, he knows better. Dongju is too impatient to heat it himself.

Geonhak  _ could _ heat it for him, but he isn't  _ that _ much of a pushover. At least, not while he’s busy.

" _ Geonhakie-hyung _ ," Dongju repeats, this time accompanied by a 'cutesy' bat at his arm that's got more force behind it than it really needs to.

With another sigh, Geonhak turns. "What?"

Dongju just beams at him, eyes scrunching up in, what is— objectively, of course— his cutest smile. "Thank you!" He chirps, giggling when Geonhak doesn't know how to respond. "It's yummy," he declares, and then flounces out of the kitchen and back to the main cafe.

Geonhak rubs at his rapidly warming cheeks and pretends he's scrubbing away the blush— or at the very least, that the friction is the only cause for it.

/////

They're sitting with their group of friends, one of the rare times they all have time to meet. They'd had pizza and then gone to an arcade earlier, where Seoho and Geonhak had spent all their tokens trying to one-up each other at every machine there— or, well, they would have, if Dongju hadn't gotten bratty and demanded Geonhak's attention the way he always did.

That is to say, violence.

No, seriously. Geonhak is by no means a weak man, but anyone would be sore after being hit in the exact same spot of his arm every time. Also: his hand has teeth marks.

His shoulder might not have them, since by the time Dongju had bitten him there, it was more affectionate and ticklish than anything, but the point stands.

Dongju is a very violent man, and Geonhak really shouldn't like him as much as he does.

So they're in Youngjo's apartment now, sipping at the tea he'd brewed them all and bundled in the extra blankets he keeps precisely for this purpose, watching some sort of bad historical drama.

The couch isn't big enough for all of them. Keonhee's been exiled to the floor because of his ridiculously gangly legs and habit of flailing whenever he's giving any sort of reaction, while Hwanwoong's perched himself on the armrest and is leaning on Youngjo, who is properly seated on the sofa right beside him, in the most grossly domestic scene Geonhak has seen of them all night. Seoho is seated in the middle, and Geonhak is taking the other end of the couch, much to Youngjo's concern. He did warn them that if they fought he'd kick them out, though, and neither of them live close by; they're planning on crashing here, so that's definitely a deterrent.

Oh, and also, to bicker with Seoho, Geonhak would have to do it around Dongju, who has decided that the floor is for losers and claimed Geonhak's lap as his place for the night.

Speaking of the devil, Dongju leans back and snuggles into Geonhak's embrace a little better. "This sucks," he says, brow furrowing. "He's not even a nice guy, why does she like him."

Hwanwoong shushes him.

Softer, but in no way stopped, Dongju twists his head to look at Geonhak. "He's not even  _ cute _ ," he insists. His mouth is too close to Geonhak’s cheek, and Geonhak goes very, very rigid in fear that if he jostles Dongju even just a little, he will find out what if feels like to have his  _ lips _ brush Geonhak’s  _ cheek _ , and  _ that, _ in turn, will be disastrous for his mental health.

Normally, Geonhak would just shrug and hope the silence would discourage Dongju from continuing, but incapacitated as he is, he has no choice but to murmur, “He’s cool? I don’t know.” He wrinkles his nose. “To her, anyway. I guess.”

Dongju snorts, and Hwanwoong shushes him a little more aggressively, but Dongju pretends not to hear it. “He is not.”

“That’s why I said ‘to her’.”

“Anyway,  _ you’re _ cool. You’re cool  _ and _ you’re nice  _ and _ you’re cute. So she could definitely, like, find someone better.”

What the heck is Geonhak supposed to say to that? What is that even supposed to  _ mean _ ?

Keonhee glances at them and snickers, pointing like an amused five year-old. “Geonhak-hyung’s  _ blushing _ ,” he sings.

He reaches over, finger outstretched still, and Geonhak smacks his hand away before it can reach his cheek.

Unfortunately, he smacks it right into Dongju’s side instead, which earns him a yelp and the obligatory retaliating bite attack.

Yeah...

Movie night ends early that night.

/////

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out of movie night. For real,” complains Dongju. “Youngjo-hyung  _ never _ kicks anyone out! Not even you and Seoho when you get annoying.”

Geonhak sighs. “First of all,  _ you _ got us kicked out. You bit me. Three separate times. And held. Even when it hurt.”

Dongju sniffs, sticking his key into the lock and jiggling it until the door pops open. “Well, you deserved it. And it didn’t hurt, you big baby. I know what you sound like when you’re in pain. That wasn’t it.” He bats his eyes at Geonhak, the perfect picture of innocence. “That was just you wanting attention. So I gave you attention.” He grinned. “Aren’t I the best?”

“Second of all,” Geonhak continues, because he doesn’t have time to unpack or retort to… all of that. He doesn’t even bother to lecture Dongju about respecting his elders this time. “You also kicked Keonhee in the gut.”

Dongju was a very, very violent man, and Geonhak  _ really _ should not like him so much.

“Are you coming in or not?”

Geonhak does— go in, that is, following after Dongju like a particularly confused chick. He shuts the door gently behind him, already slipping off his shoes so he can line them up neatly against the wall. Dongju glances sideways at him, kicking off his own sneakers haphazardly and letting them land wherever as he ventures deeper into the apartment yelling for his brother.

Geonhak just clicks his tongue and goes to fix Dongju’s shoes too.

Dongmyeong finally stomps out of his room to smack Dongju on the arm. “Shut up!” he hisses. “We have neighbors!”

“You weren’t answering. I had to know if you were home.”

“Why would you—” Dongmyeong finally seems to notice Geonhak standing there. He blinks, and Geonhak isn’t entirely sure what to do so he just gives a small wave of his hand before clasping his fingers together in front of him like the children at the preschool he’s training at when they think they’re in trouble. Dongmyeong’s eyes go wide, and then he turns to Dongju, raising a hand to his mouth like he’s… scandalized?

But why.

“Excuse us,” says Dongmyeong, yanking Dongju into his room by the collar and slamming the door shut. Geonhak doesn’t move from the entrance, so he can’t hear anything except that whatever they’re saying, the tones are urgent. Should he leave? Maybe he should leave.

Geonhak is just starting to fidget, seriously considering slipping on his shoes and just heading home, when the twins finally reemerge, looking significantly more ruffled— probably a brotherly wrestling match, they had those a lot— but otherwise, seemingly all right. Dongmyeong is giving Geonhak a grin, the kind of grin that Geonhak is slightly suspicious of because Dongmyeong is sweet, but not  _ that _ sweet. “Well, okay, Dongju just has to go grab the guest futon from… somewhere in the storage closet… You’re okay to stay in Dongju’s room, right?”

“Uh… I mean…”

“You could stay in mine,” Dongmyeong says, shrugging, “but I haven’t cleaned my floor in ages and I think you’re too tall, so you might like. Wind up kicking the keyboard and it’ll fall on you in the night and really, it’s just better if—”

“Yeah, okay,” Geonhak answers quickly, because he knows Dongmyeong is entirely capable and willing to carry on the conversation on his own.

Dongmyeong raises a brow. “To my room?”

“No, to Dongju’s. I don’t mind,” Geonhak corrects him, quiet. He feels a blush climbing up his cheeks and hopes it isn’t obvious. 

“Great!” chirps Dongmyeong, clapping his hands together cheerfully like he hadn’t just not-so-subtly coerced Geonhak into making that exact decision. “Well,” he says, making a show of yawning— someone give the man an Oscar, honestly— “I’m heading to bed. Have fun doing whatever you’re gonna do. Just make sure it’s quiet fun. And that, like, you don’t break any of our furniture. We’re broke.” As he leaves, he winks.  _ Badly _ .

He marches back into his room, without so much as a thought for how Geonhak’s entire face is literally burning in mortification. “What does he think we’re going to do?” he groans, only moving from his spot by the doorway because Dongju takes it upon himself to grab Geonhak by the arm and yank him inside. 

“What do you think?” Dongju tosses back at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Just ignore him. It’s really easy, I do it all the time.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Geonhak asks, not sure how the hell he’s still functioning. His head is spinning; he’s already been panicking about sharing a room with Dongju, because he’s witnessed enough of Dongju’s impromptu study naps to know he was  _ cute _ when he slept, but now he has  _ those _ kinds of thoughts to contend with too, and—

Geonhak is going to  _ die _ , and he can’t even kill Dongmyeong first to make it fair.

Dongju just shoves Geonhak into his room. “I’m getting the futon,” he says, in lieu of an answer. “You already know where the bathroom is, so if you ever decide to put your bag down, you can go take a shower if you want.” Dongju vanishes.

Geonhak flushes for the umpteenth time that night, and finally sets his bag on the floor, kneeling down to fish around for his toiletries and pull out his sweatpants. He debates grabbing a shirt too, but it’s a warm night, and Dongju’s room has always been a little stuffy, and anyway, Dongju’s already seen him topless because of how carelessly the little brat likes to barge into Geonhak’s apartment using the spare key he somehow found the location of…

Then again, Dongmyeong…

Fuck it, Geonhak was an  _ adult _ , he could handle a little discomfort for the sake of decency. He slings a threadbare shirt— usually reserved for his gym visits, all ratty and stretched out at the collar— over his shoulder with the rest of his clothes and heads out to get clean before bed.

/////

He comes back, ruffling at his hair with a towel in a half-hearted attempt to dry it, to find Dongju on his phone.

This is normal. What is  _ not _ normal is, rather than lying on his perfectly comfortable and empty bed, Dongju is sprawled over the futon where Geonhak should be. “Uh. Aren’t you taking the bed?”

“Maybe I want you to take it. Shouldn’t you be grateful?” Dongju replies, with no more than a passing glance up at Geonhak. He pouts, probably at something on his phone.

Geonhak squints. “You  _ never _ want me to take the bed.”

“And you never wear a shirt to sleep,” Dongju shoots back, petulance clear in his tone. “But here you are. With a shirt for once.”

Geonhak fights the urge to hide his face. He takes hot showers, he can blame the redness on that. No problem. Neither of them move. Geonhak can’t think of a response.

“Come inside already,” whines Dongju. “You’re making it awkward. I hate awkward.”

Obediently, Geonhak slips in and nudges the door shut behind him. “Go back to your bed.”

“I can’t go back if I was never there,” snarks Dongju. “Also, I told you to take it.”

Geonhak plops down beside him. “No,” he says simply. “You’re going to complain in the morning, I know you.” He pokes at Dongju’s side, making him squirm. “Go.”

“Lie down first,” Dongju counters, which isn’t a no, so Geonhak sighs and just does as he’s told in the hopes that it’ll get Dongju to listen to him too.

He really should have known better.

As soon as he’s pulled the blanket over himself, Dongju wriggles underneath it and throws an arm over Geonhak’s chest, twisting their legs together. It’s like he’s doing his best impression of a koala, which is cute, but also.

Also.

What the  _ fuck _ ?

“Uh—” Geonhak manages, after flapping his mouth uselessly for a second or two. “What—”

“Shhhhhh! I’m sleepy and you’re making this harder than it has to be. You’ll convince yourself it’s fake in the morning anyway, that’s what you did last time.” 

“This did not happen last time,” Geonhak mutters, frowning. It couldn’t have! He may have dreamed that Dongju had cuddled him for five seconds in the morning before pecking his cheek and moving back to the bed, but that was something else entirely and also, not real.

“The denial is strong with this one.” Dongju mumbles back, almost to himself.

“What?” What denial? There isn’t any denial. What is there to  _ deny _ ?

“I  _ said _ , that’s the spirit.” Liar. He hadn’t said that. “Sleep now.” That said, Dongju snuggles into Geonhak’s chest, fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, the only sound is the pounding drumbeat of Geonhak’s heart in his ears. He’s pretty sure Dongju can hear it too, given his position.

Then: “Dang it, Geonhakie-hyung, you didn’t turn off the light.”

/////

Lucky for Geonhak, the past week has been draining enough that he only loses his mind about his situation for maybe fifteen minutes before finally conking out.

_ Un _ lucky for him though, he made the wrong decision about the shirt. He wakes up about two hours later sticky with sweat from not just the fairly unfamiliar feeling of a shirt on, but the added insulation of the blanket and the extra body heat courtesy of one Son Dongju.

He blinks bleary eyes up at the ceiling, knowing he probably  _ shouldn’t _ just sit up and drag the offending garment off, but can’t remember for the life of him why not. He shifts in place, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands as he tries to recall what made him wear it in the first place. He eventually jostles Dongju enough that he wakes up too, whimpering softly at having been woken.

Ah right, that’s why. Dongju.

“Hyung, what—”

“Shh, sorry I just— it’s hot and— can you let go of me?” he murmurs.

Dongju clicks his tongue, hands shoving up at Geonhak’s shirt impatiently. His nails skate over Geonhak’s skin just for a fraction of a second, and Geonhak can’t help the shiver that wracks through him. “Just take it off. I wanna sleep, and I wanna cuddle you.”

It’s a testament to how tired Geonhak is that he accepts that as easily as he does, tugging the top over his head and tossing it to some unidentifiable corner of the room before settling back in place, allowing Dongju to make himself comfortable over his chest once more, head tucked into the crook of his neck.

He drifts back off to sleep.

/////

Geonhak is naturally an early riser, and unless he worked himself dead the night before, it usually doesn’t matter what time he actually fell asleep, because he’ll be up at six regardless. 

Which is why at exactly six the next morning, Geonhak pries his eyes open, staring up at the stained plaster of what is decidedly not his or Youngjo’s apartment.

Right. Dongju’s place.

Why… why is his right side so warm?

It isn’t his shirt, that’s for sure. Firstly, it’s uneven, and that’s just… not how shirts work, unless it’s one of those weird half-jackets that Youngjo likes to wear sometimes to clubs (Dongju teases that Youngjo is too old for both the fashion and the club, because Dongju’s a little twat like that). Secondly… he apparently has no shirt at all.

So…

He tries to lift his hand to scrub at his eyes, but finds it weighed down. “Oh,” he breathes. That’s a person.

Hold up. That’s not just a person, it’s a  _ Dongju _ .

Hugging him. Cuddling him, even.

While he has no shirt at all.

The door to Dongju’s room creaks open slowly, but Geonhak can’t lift his head far enough to see who’s in the doorway. He’d bet anything it’s Dongmyeong, though, based on the unsubtle camera shutter noise.

Plus, it’s not like there are any other options. No one else lives here, and only Geonhak had come to stay over last night.

He hears the door close softly, accompanied by Dongmyeong’s quiet, ominous giggles.

Wait. Camera? Dongmyeong?

Fuck.

Geonhak jolts to proper alertness, trying to figure out the best way to get up without waking Dongju so he can get decent again and also chase down Dongmyeong and get him to delete any and all evidence before he starts showing people and construing it as something it’s not.

Dongmyeong has a hell of a tendency to exaggerate, and yet, somehow, people always believe him immediately. It will be an unmitigated disaster if Geonhak lets it go. He starts trying to slip out from the weight of Dongju lying half on top of him (Geonhak’s brain is imploding just thinking about it), but is thwarted within two seconds by Dongju himself.

“Fuck you and your morning-person awakeness,” he mumbles, rolling so he’s situated firmly on top of Geonhak and crushing his lungs, and all his other innards to boot. “Stay and sleep more. It’s a  _ weekend _ .”

“Dongju—” Geonhak sighs, pushing weakly at Dongju’s shoulder with a groan. “Come on—”

“ _ No _ .”

“I need a shirt.”

“You hate shirts.”

“I d—”

“When you sleep you do.”

Okay, fine. Geonhak could give him that. “It’s warm,” he says next.

“You sweat all night anyway. Who cares?”

“Don’t I stink?”

“You don’t. Shut up already. And I like how you smell.”

“That sounds—”

“Shut up, hyung. If I wake up anymore than I’ve already woken up I’ll kill you.”

A beat passes. “I can’t  _ breathe _ ,” Geonhak tries.

“Good. Suffocate, then. Easier for me to kill you this way.”

Geonhak supposes it might just be easier to resign himself to death at this point. He sighs. Loudly. Right into Dongju’s ear.

Dongju attempts to draw his head into his shoulders like a turtle at the tickle. “I’ll bite you,” he threatens. “ _ Please _ fuck off, hyung. Sleep.”

Geonhak...  _ cannot _ deal with the image of being bitten by Dongju like this. He wisely clicks his jaw shut and squeezes his eyes shut. Sleep. Okay. Okay, fine.

/////

When he wakes next, it’s to Dongju toeing at his side. “Hyung. Geonhakie-hyung.”

Geonhak groans and rubs at his eyes like that’ll help him get any more awake. This is why he gets up early, he thinks, struggling to keep them open long enough to actually  _ see _ . Oversleeping always makes him feel like he’ll never be alert again. “What?” he rasps, grimacing at the roughness of his voice and the staleness of his own breath. 

It takes Dongju longer than it should to reply. “Come on, you have to make breakfast.”

“Why do  _ I _ need to make it?” Geonhak mutters, letting Dongju pull him upright into a sitting position. “Isn’t this—” he yawns, raising a hand to cover his mouth. “Isn’t this your house? Aren’t I a guest? Why am  _ I _ cooking?”

“Eh, but you’re a way better chef,” says Dongju. “Also, you’re an unexpected guest, which means you should be grateful and make me food.” He kicks lightly at Geonhak’s side again. “Right?”

“Wrong.” Geonhak does stand though, scanning the room slowly for his shirt. He knew he’d had one on when he went to bed the first time, so he must have… there. He pulls it on. “I’m only unexpected because  _ you _ got us kicked out of Youngjo-hyung’s. You owed me.”

Dongju just starts pushing at Geonhak’s shoulders. Geonhak would normally lean his weight back in resistance, but he isn’t fully awake yet and if Dongju decides to just let go, he won’t regain his balance in time to right himself. “Details, details. Come on, chop chop. Food won’t make itself.” 

So that’s how he lets himself get herded into the kitchen. 

“ _ Dongju _ , I told you I’d do it,” exclaims Dongmyeong, emerging from the bathroom just as Geonhak is washing the rice, hair dripping onto the hardwood floor. He looks flustered, rocking on his feet like he can’t decide if it would be rude to rush over and shove Geonhak away from his task.

“I wanted Geonhakie-hyung’s cooking though?”

“But he—”

“It’s fine,” Geonhak murmurs. “It’s helping me wake up, and I like cooking anyway.”

Dongmyeong gapes at him, and then whistles lowly, mumbling something Geonhak can’t catch, too low and too far to be heard over the sound of running water as Geonhak rinses the rice one last time.

“Shut up,” says Dongju— hisses, really— marching over to his brother threateningly. Dongmyeong whirls and flees behind the sofa, almost knocking over a lamp.

Geonhak shakes his head at them and looks back to his cooking.

The twins bicker for a little longer, voices quiet. Geonhak pretends not to notice when their gazes dart over to him, subtly rubs at the goosebumps that rise on his skin when they watch him a little too pointedly. He zones out instead, lets his body move on autopilot through the motions of preparing some simple omelettes (really simple, the twins didn’t have the most heavily stocked fridge, probably just ran through their groceries; Geonhak would’ve bought more for them, if he’d had time). At some point, he registers that the brothers have stopped minding him altogether, content to watch something on their television and occasionally comment to one another.

When Geonhak finishes his cooking, he calls, “Time to eat, shut off the musical and sit down, will you?” He sets down the serving plates of food on the little bar (the closest thing to a dining space the twins have), then roots around in the cupboards until he unearths enough mismatched dishes for them to eat with, depositing the stack on the countertop too. 

“Thanks for the food!” Dongmyeong answers, clambering over the couch and picking out a stool. He takes it on himself to set the places nicely, which Geonhak is appreciative of.

“It wasn’t a musical,” says Dongju, as he finally switches the screen off. He wanders over to sit too, already piling food onto his own plate. “Music distracts you when you cook, so I picked a movie instead.”

Geonhak really should be used to Dongju’s unpredictable thoughtfulness by now.

He isn’t though.

“Oh,” he breathes, feeling his face warm. Instead of saying more and embarrassing himself (he undoubtedly would), he swats at Dongju’s hand, starting to lift a forkful of egg to his mouth. “Wait for everyone,” he chides.

“Wait for  _ you _ , you mean,” Dongju huffs, but does as he’s told. “Dongmyeong’s already here. Hurry then, I’m hungry.”

Geonhak rolls his eyes, and he has a passing thought about purposely dilly-dallying to make Dongju wait, but he doesn’t follow through with it. He only gathers up the dirty dishes and stacks them neatly in the sink to clean later, and then joins the twins on the other side. He takes up the last remaining stool, and is pleasantly surprised to find his plate already has food scooped onto it.

Dongju isn’t looking at him, which only proves he did it (Dongmyeong unsubtly cocking his head in Dongju’s direction from behind his back helps too). Not that Dongju will ever admit to it, because he’s oddly picky about what kindnesses of his are recognized, but whatever.

“Let’s eat,” Geonhak says, nudging Dongju’s knee with his own gently, a silent thanks. Dongju nudges back instead of shoving or slapping at him, so Geonhak takes that as a ‘you’re welcome’.

/////

Dongmyeong volunteers to help Geonhak with the dishes, while Dongju goes off to get himself ready for the morning. He has some kind of meeting for a group project that he’s promised will only take about an hour or two, so Geonhak had (reluctantly) agreed to just hang out here until he returns so they can have dinner together before Geonhak heads home.

“So…?” Dongmyeong sings obnoxiously, as soon as his brother is out of earshot. “When are you gonna tell ‘im?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Geonhak, because it’s true. He has no idea at all what Dongmyeong is referring to, so out of the blue. “Who am I supposed to be telling?  _ What _ am I supposed to be telling?”

Dongmyeong just gives him a sly look. Geonhak is absolutely befuddled. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Geonhak insists, handing off another plate for him to dry. “Really.”

Dongmyeong pouts. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not!” Geonhak finds he’s out of dishes to wash, so he wipes off his hands and grabs at the pen and notepad perpetually on the twins’ counter so he can jot down a list of groceries he should get for them while Dongju’s out and can neither stop him nor whine for extra junk food— he has a fifty-fifty chance of doing either, really, depending on his mood.

“You’re—”

Dongju finally comes out of his room, wearing a blue button-up under cream overalls, messy curls poking out from beneath a newsboy hat to match. Geonhak wonders why he’s dressed so nicely.

“What’s with the get-up?” Dongmyeong asks, saving Geonhak from having to do it himself. “I thought it was just a group project?”

“It’s a photography project,” Dongju answers, fiddling with one strap until it comes loose. “One strap? Or both?”

He looks really nice. Cute. Dongju has even done his makeup, nothing too fancy, but definitely noticeable— soft, pink blush dusted over his cheeks, fake freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose.

Dongmyeong hums in consideration, then shrugs, says something about either being okay. Dongju huffs, and suddenly he’s facing Geonhak, who does his utmost best to pretend he hadn’t been staring. The amusement twinkling in Dongju’s eyes (is he wearing eyeliner too?) says Geonhak’s betrayed himself somehow, but Dongju only demands, “One or two? Dongmyeong’s no help and I have to decide.”

“Uh…”

“Hurry, hurry!” Dongju urges, bouncing like an overgrown toddler. “It’s not that hard, why are you two so useless?”

“Eh, if it’s not that hard, don’t ask us and figure it out yourself!” Dongmyeong tosses back.

Dongju glares at him, mouth opening to retort with something scathing, and, yeah, Geonhak should step in now.

“Both,” says Geonhak. He doesn’t really have a reason, but Dongju seems satisfied, because he just nods his thanks and heads out the door with a wave.

Dongmyeong wastes no time rounding on Geonhak again. “Like I was  _ saying _ ,” he says. “You’re in love with Dongju, right? When are you telling him?”

Geonhak is glad he’s finished the dishes, or he might have dropped whatever he was holding. His mouth flaps uselessly for a moment, which is probably a tell in and of itself, but he still says, “Who said that? Have you been listening to Seoho-hyung again?” He raises an eyebrow and does his utmost best to look unimpressed. His face is practically burning.

“Why would I need to listen to Seoho-hyung?” Dongmyeong questions, finally putting away the last of the plates and shutting the cupboard door. His eyes widen almost comically, next words suddenly excited. “Oh, wait— does he know something? Maybe I should—”

Geonhak snatches away Dongmyeong’s phone before he can do something incriminating like  _ call Seoho _ , who would expose him without a single drop of mercy. “No. You shouldn’t. All he’s gonna say is nonsense anyway.”

“You’re shy,” Dongmyeong points out.

“I usually am.”

“No, I meant right now.” Dongmyeong squints at him. “More than usual. You’re all red. As in, like, you’re literally the color of a strawberry. And you not letting me talk to Seoho-hyung is suspicious, so I think you actually have something to hide even though you’re trying to convince me you don’t, so you really should just spill, especially since I’m pretty sure it’s what I already know, so—”

Geonhak pinches at the bridge of his nose and sighs. Heavily. “Dongmyeong. I get it.”

“Then tell me!”

Geonhak groans, runs a palm over his face in exasperation. Why is this his life? “Fine, okay. So I like your brother.”

“Ah-ah,” cuts in Dongmyeong, smirking knowingly. “Not just  _ like _ . I’m not blind, you know.”

“If you’re so sure, why do you need me to tell you?” huffs Geonhak, sulking just a little. Why did he tolerate this disrespect, again?

“Because you need to admit it. To me and yourself,” says Dongmyeong, suddenly serious. “The first step to anything is acceptance right?” He leaves the kitchen, and for reasons unknown, Geonhak finds himself trailing after him, joining him on the couch. “Even if you decide it’s hopeless and move on, you have to accept it first.”

Geonhak hates it, but Dongmyeong is right. For all that Dongmyeong likes to blab, he’s trustworthy where it counts, so Geonhak is just about to admit to the truth, when Dongmyeong mutters, like he isn’t offering completely life-changing information: “Although, to be honest, you deciding it’s hopeless would be a dumb decision since I’m pretty fucking sure Dongju’s just as in love with you as you are with him.”

“He— what?”

Dongmyeong sighs heavily, rolls his eyes so hard Geonhak almost winces, wonders if he gave himself a headache with the force of his dramatics. “Hyung. Please tell me you’re joking. Dongju looks at you like—” He groans, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “I hate this. I hate you. I hate Dongju. Why are you like this?” He pulls out his phone and taps at it for a bit, and then suddenly it’s ringing on speaker.

“Ah, Dongmyeong-ah. What is it?”

Is that Yonghoon-hyung? Why is Dongmyeong calling Yonghoon? Why on speaker? 

“Hyuuung. Tell Geonhak-hyung Dongju’s head over heels for him,” says Dongmyeong, voice trailing off into a whine as he pouts.

“You mean he doesn’t already know?” demands Yonghoon, half-laughing. “Wait, is he there with you? Geonhak-ah?”

“Y-yes. Hi, hyung.”

“You really haven’t noticed how Dongju looks at you?”

Geonhak shakes his head, before remembering Yonghoon can’t see him. “No,” he mutters, but it must be too low to hear, because Yonghoon doesn’t acknowledge it. “No,” he repeats. “What are you and Dongmyeong talking about?”

Yonghoon sighs. “He’s been in love with you almost as long as you’ve been in love with him— and shut your mouth, no one’s dumb enough to believe you when you deny it.”

Well then.

“He’s always trying to get your attention,” says Yonghoon, followed by some shuffling on his end of the call. Geonhak wonders what he’s doing. If it’s important, and they (mostly Dongmyeong) had interrupted. “He gets you to spoil him.”

“That’s just— wouldn’t anyone—” Geonhak splutters. He’s cut off by Dongmyeong slapping a hand over his mouth. He glares and swats Dongmyeong’s arm away. “Hey.”

“Sorry hyung, but it’s more than just liking being spoiled. Otherwise he would have let me do the cooking; I’m not that bad at it either, and as long as it isn’t him doing it, he should’ve been happy. But he made  _ you _ do it.” Dongmyeong raises an eyebrow. “It’s about it being  _ you _ , hyung. Not the spoiling.” He pauses. “Although, he does like that too.”

He whirls to face the phone with a gasp. “Ohmygod, Yonghoon-hyung, I forgot to text you. I found them sleeping together this morning.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Not like that!” protests Geonhak, pinching at Dongmyeong’s elbow vindictively and ignoring his resulting whine. “Not like that. He just… Didn’t want to take the bed for some weird reason? And cuddled with me on the futon on the floor. But it was just sleeping.  _ Actually _ sleeping.” Geonhak’s blushing so hard he swears his cheeks are going to burst into flames. That would not be ideal at all.

“Okay. Okay, good. I didn’t think so,” Yonghoon assures him, laughing breathlessly, “But I was definitely shocked and worried.”

“Why would I f—” Geonhak groans quietly, hiding his face in his hands. “I hate it here.”

“But more importantly,” says Yonghoon. “Dongju… didn’t take the bed? That kid hates being uncomfortable.”

“He didn’t even complain all morning!” Dongmyeong exclaims. “I braced myself for it since I saw them, but nothing came? I’m almost concerned that some alien abducted Dongju and replaced him, you know!”

Yonghoon cackles. “I don’t blame you.” He pauses. “Geonhak-ah, you really can’t tell he loves you from that alone?”

Dongmyeong giggles softly, patting Geonhak’s head in some attempt at consolation, though for what, Geonhak doesn’t know. For the situation? For the teasing? “Hyung,” says Dongmyeong. “Dongju talks about you constantly. He smiles so much around you. He’s always clinging to you, and watching you when you aren’t paying attention, and if you ask anybody who’s seen you two together, they’d agree with me.”

“It’s true,” agrees Yonghoon. “He takes care of people more than he likes to admit, but… you definitely get more than the rest of us.” Softer, he adds, “He really does love you a whole lot, Geonhak.”

“He knows so many weird things about you too. Like, he pays  _ so much _ attention to your habits I get a little creeped out sometimes,” Dongmyeong says, as if he needs to drive the point further home. Or maybe just because he likes hearing himself talk.

“Like?” The question slips from Geonhak’s lips almost without him noticing. 

Dongmyeong throws his hands in the air. “You’re gonna make me say it? This is so cheesy! I might throw up!” 

Geonhak just raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for the moans to die out. He’s so dramatic all the time, how does he even have the energy?

“ _ Fine _ ,” he gripes. “Yonghoon-hyung, please hang up now. I don’t want you to hear me.”

Yonghoon laughs brightly. “You should have expected—”

“Bye!”

Dongmyeong ends the call.

“I’m surprised you can get away with doing that to him,” says Geonhak. Eyeing the phone apprehensively, like it’ll start ringing with Yonghoon’s wrath any second.

Dongmyeong just shrugs. “I’ll make it up to him later. He won’t mind. At most he’ll be  _ slightly _ annoyed. I just need to get him food and bribe him with cuddles. Probably Giwook cuddles.”

“You aren’t Giwook, though,” points out Geonhak.

“Really?” gasps Dongmyeong. “I wasn’t aware.” He rolls his eyes. “Ha. Ha. I just have to bribe Giwook too. He likes this one shake from the cafe just across the street from here and—  _ hey _ wait a second! You’re trying to distract me! Geonhak-hyung!”

Well, it was worth a shot, Geonhak thinks, biting back a chuckle.

“I hate you. So much.”

“Do you.”

“Yes. I’d bite you for it, but that’s really more of Dongju’s thing. Also he’ll get mad at me because he’s like. A little possessive.”

He— “What?” Geonhak maybe needs to make Dongmyeong stop talking. For his own sanity. But he’s not sure even the entire South Korean army could do that, so he’s probably doomed.

“Anyways!”

Okay, not probably, definitely doomed.

“Wait, you can’t just—”

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Dongmyeong practically yells (so much for his concern for the neighbors). Geonhak shuts up because he really doesn’t want to get the twins a noise complaint. Dongju would never forgive him.

And trying to get back in his good graces would be a pain in Geonhak’s ass for at least the next two months. 

“Anyways—”

Okay, after this, he’ll shut up. “You’ve said that word three times now—”

“Geonhak-hyung, I will not hesitate to strangle you.”

Well. If he put it that way…

Geonhak can take him, obviously, Dongmyeong doesn’t exactly go to the gym often, but he’d… really rather not have to.

Dongmyeong glares at him.

“What?” demands Geonhak. “I didn’t say anything to that!”

“I see you thinking it,” Dongmyeong says. “But just so you know my aesthetic isn’t  _ just _ an aesthetic. Don’t even try.”

“O….kay?” Geonhak… isn’t sure how much he believes Dongmyeong, but. Sure. Whatever.

“Thank you. So like I was saying, Dongju, like. Memorizes weird things about you. Like your birthday.”

His— “Wait. Hold up.”

“Hold up what? A pillow?”

Geonhak starts to stand, cocking his head. Is that how it's gonna be? 

“I’m kidding! Also you really don’t want to fight me, I promise,” says Dongmyeong, quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. Geonhak sits back down.

“How is knowing my birthday weird? Don’t  _ you _ know it?” Geonhak is a little bit hurt. He thought they were friends, even if they weren't the closest, surely...

"No," snorts Dongmyeong, and Geonhak swallows down a disappointed  _ oh _ . He shouldn’t be so bothered, really. He shouldn’t. But it’s just human nature, isn’t it, to be a little bothered when— “Wait!” Dongmyeong’s eyes grow wide as he realizes the implication, and he clutches at Geonhak, like Geonhak would leave him just for that.

(He wouldn’t.)

“I didn’t mean it like—” Dongmyeong starts, softly. “I meant that— I have it in my calendar. I get notifications. I know when it is, just… not off the top of my head.” He whines quietly, tugging at Geonhak’s sleeve like a child. “I promise I know it!”

Geonhak chuckles. “Okay, fine. I forgive you,” he says, because Dongmyeong didn’t explicitly say sorry, but Geonhak recognizes an apology when he hears one. Also, Dongmyeong is giving him puppy eyes, which is pretty telling in itself. “So, what do you mean then?”

“Dongju just. Knows it. He wakes up on the morning of your birthday and instead of greeting me, he just announces that it’s your birthday. I’m fairly sure he has a mental countdown, because he starts making plans exactly one week before, and I’ve  _ checked _ his phone, and he doesn’t have  _ anything _ in his calendar at all. Like, absolutely  _ nothing _ .” Dongmyeong makes big, emphatic X gestures with his arms, like he needs to drive the point home even more than he did with the repetition and obvious emphasis. “Also, he knows that one story about your weird mer-dino birthday by heart. Could probably recite it in his sleep… Actually, I think once, he started muttering part of it...”

“Oh god,” groans Geonhak. The  _ mer-dino _ birthday. “Why does he memorize that.” 

It isn’t really a question, but Dongmyeong treats it like one, answering, “Well, he thought it was cute that you wanted to—”

“Shut up,” hisses Geonhak. “I don’t need the reminder. Bad enough my mom sends me a picture every year.”

Dongmyeong snickers, but decides to be merciful, this time. “He also talks about your nose scrunch a lot. He thinks it’s the cutest thing. I didn’t even notice you did that a lot until he pointed it out.” He holds up two fingers, like he’s counting things off a list. “He memorizes the way you like your coffee— which, by the way, hyung, is ridiculously specific and  _ complicated _ , and I don’t know why he knows it since he never buys you any anyway— also is it even coffee anymore with all the sugar and toppings you toss in it?”

Geonhak narrows his eyes at him, fighting back an embarrassed blush. “Listen, it tastes good that way, it’s not my fault I have a sweet tooth.”

“You could just… not get coffee,” retorts Dongmyeong, unfolding a third finger.

“I need the caffeine.”

“Energy drinks?”

Geonhak makes a face. Gross.

“Guess not,” mutters Dongmyeong. “Anyway, he, like, memorizes your most ticklish spot.” Another tick of his fingers. “And your morning routine preparing the kitchen.” Another. “And the first rap track of yours that you sent him? He memorizes every word. Every. Word. I didn’t even know he could rap, but he just. Does it.” Dongmyeong waggles his fully open hand at Geonhak, the gesture almost aggressive. “Do you want me to keep going, or do I need to start imitating his gushing about how  _ strong _ and  _ hot _ you are, and all the traumatizing things I’ve heard that have made my ears  _ bleed _ ?”

Geonhak chokes on his saliva, and needs a few seconds to learn how to breathe again. “Please stop,” he finally manages.

“Thank god,” gripes Dongmyeong, like it was torture. Maybe it was, honestly, Geonhak doesn’t know, but it was definitely self-inflicted. Not Geonhak’s fault at all.

“So Dongju— he—” Geonhak can’t even say it. He can’t say he doubts Dongmyeong anymore; Dongmyeong exaggerates, but in this, Geonhak can tell he’s being honest, because when he’s telling tall tales, well, there’s never this many details. Plus, Dongmyeong isn’t that cruel. When it comes to things like feelings, he’s always been very careful about what he actually says. 

That doesn’t make this pill any easier to swallow.

Dongju? Like him back?

It has to be fake. Right? But it isn’t, apparently, and Geonhak has no idea what to do, because he’d never prepared himself for this kind of outcome. 

“He loves you, yes, we’ve been over this,” Dongmyeong says, exasperatedly. “Can we get on to making you some sort of master plan to ask him out?”

“What? Why do I need that?”

“What do you mean, why? Obviously so you can win him over!”

“You just said—”

Dongmyeong throws his hands up. “That’s irrelevant! You have his heart, but you don’t have his boyfriend status. You have to get that boyfriend status.” He nods to himself, like he’s making some sort of important resolve rather than just some silly decision for a crush that isn’t even his. “Plus,” he adds, “Playing wingman is fun and I want to do it.”

That… makes sense. Geonhak really should have expected that reasoning. It’s exactly something the twins would do.

Still, he’s not sure he wants to do anything big and flashy, and starts to say as much, mumbling, “I—”

But Dongmyeong is a runaway train and Geonhak is only human. So of course he gets run over.

“Listen, okay, so Dongju’s like, a weak-ass fucker—”

Geonhak blinks. Since when did Dongmyeong swear like that?

“He’s a weak-ass fucker, he just doesn’t show it, but like… Listen, Geonhak-hyung,  _ listen— _ ” He tugs insistently on Geonhak’s arm, which completely cuts off his hope of escaping whatever insanity Dongmyeong wants to cook up by leaving the room. “Anything you do can and will send him into a gay panic. Trust me. I once had to sit through a rant about how gay it made him that you cut all your food before eating it like some kind of toddler. I don’t get why he was so affected, but he was. He’s just that weak for you apparently.”

“I— it’s just habit!” Geonhak defends himself. “The kids at work, I have to cut their food, so I—”

“ _ Shhh _ ! I’m telling you life-changing information! I don’t care about why you do it. I don’t even care that you do it period.” He pauses. “It is kind of cute, actually, now that I think about it, but it’s not really cute enough to warrant the meltdown Dongju had, so.” He shrugs, then continues, “So we can just. Like. Make him have a  _ lot _ of meltdowns. Maybe if you get under his skin enough he won’t be able to control himself, and he’ll confess.”

“How would I even do that if I don’t know what makes him have a meltdown?”

Dongmyeong smirks. “You don’t, but I do,” he sings, smug as a cat with a canary in its grasp. “Listen, you could just find reasons to keep coming over and—”

Geonhak holds up a finger. “I need to stop you there,” he says, resisting the urge to pitch his voice a little higher and soften its edges the way he would for the preschool kids. Dongmyeong might be childish, especially right now, but he isn’t a kid at all, and it would be very insulting. Even if Geonhak thinks he kind of deserves a little insulting, for being so nosy. “You’re making this way too complicated. And I have a terrible poker face, especially around Dongju. It won’t work.”

“You don’t even know what I’m planning yet!” Dongmyeong protests, lips pursed. “And I promise, half the things I’m going to say, you do anyway!”

“If I’m aware that it’s part of a plan, it won’t matter. I’ll still be awkward. You  _ know _ this.”

Dongmyeong considers that for a moment, before nodding slowly. “I guess… I guess that’s true. So what’ll you do? You can’t not do anything, not anymore! If you can’t go through with a plan, imagine how much  _ worse _ you’ll do just waiting for something to  _ give _ !” Dongmyeong makes a weird kind of whining noise from the back of his throat, burying his face in his hands. “Now what will we do!? If I knew you weren’t going to do anything, I shouldn’t have told you, now you’re going to be all hyper-aware and  _ aghhhh _ !” Dongmyeong’s hands slide into his hair, where he ruffles aggressively at the strands— does he do that often? Shit, it’s a wonder he isn’t bald, then. Maybe he has a really good conditioner?

Geonhak wants to calm him down, and tell him it’s okay. Honestly, Geonhak  _ should _ do that. Dongmyeong’s getting loud again, and that aside, it really isn’t Dongmyeong’s problem to solve— Geonhak’s dumbass, too-powerful-for-words crush on Dongju, that is. Geonhak’s an adult too, and older than the twins to boot, so he should at least be able to maintain some semblance of normalcy until the knowledge that Dongmyeong has foisted on him has faded from his awareness, right? It shouldn’t be Dongmyeong’s job to keep him sane.

And yet.

And yet, Geonhak is not… doing any of that. So sue him, he’s extremely susceptible to nervous energy in particular, and all of a sudden (as most things with him are) Dongmyeong is brimming with it, fidgeting restlessly in his seat. “Oh nooooo,” he wails, slumping over into Geonhak’s side. “I didn’t mean to make you stressed, Geonhak-hyung, I’m sorry! What’ll you do now!?”

“I don’t— I don’t know!” Geonhak says, struggling to rein his voice in so he isn’t yelling. 

“Can you just do nothing?”

“I don’t— maybe?” Okay, no. “No, I just— maybe I’ll just ask him out already!”

“Are you talking about me?”

Geonhak freezes. It isn’t something he does by choice, admittedly. It’s just that, caught unawares, entirely unprepared to actually confess to Dongju—  _ by Dongju _ — well, that’s plenty enough reason for the blood in his veins to run ice cold, because holy shit, he  _ isn’t ready _ .

How did they even miss the door opening and closing?

“Dongju!” yelps Dongmyeong, a little belatedly, bolting upright hard enough that he headbutts Geonhak in the chin, and—  _ ouch _ ? They both wince, but Dongju just stands there in the entry hall, eyebrow raised at them.

“It’s rude to gossip about people,” he says, completely unperturbed. Geonhak dares to hope, foolishly, that Dongju only caught the last bit of the conversation, and is just teasing. That he’ll break out in laughter and then move on.

He doesn’t, though. Dongju’s expression is strangely difficult to read, wiped clean of any tells; he’s put on a mask of vague interest, and… maybe Dongmyeong had been wrong. Maybe he had meant well, but it certainly doesn’t look like Dongju shares Geonhak’s crush at all.

“Ju—” Dongmyeong begins, standing up and approaching him, looking ready to pull him into an apology hug or something.

“Shush, you,” chides Dongju, swatting at Dongmyeong’s outstretched arms. “You’ve done enough damage. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay…” Dongmyeong ducks his head, and with a sheepish wave at Geonhak, and a mouthed ‘good luck’ (at least, that’s what Geonhak thinks it was), he turns and vanishes into his room.

“Maybe I should—” starts Geonhak, getting to his feet.

Dongju shoves him (none too gently) back down. “No, you shouldn’t, hyung,” he says, sounding mildly disappointed, but unsurprised in the least. He sits down next to Geonhak with a sigh, tugging off his cap and dropping it on the floor, raking his fingers through his hair, and…

_ God, he’s beautiful _ , thinks Geonhak, because not all of him has gotten with the program: this whole… infatuation thing isn’t going to go anywhere. 

Okay, fine. Infatuation is a gross understatement. But, still. Same result, so what does it matter what he calls it?

Point is, Dongju is an amazing human being, both to look at and be with, but it really isn’t Geonhak’s place to—

“Hyung,” murmurs Dongju, prodding gently at his stomach to make him squirm, because even when he’s being sweet, he also has to be a little shit. “Don’t space out on me now.”

“Sorry.”

Dongju shakes his head. “Nah. I’m sorry. I told Dongmyeong not to pester you about it, but  _ clearly _ ,” he says, pointedly, even though Dongmyeong isn’t even here anymore, “he can’t follow instructions!” His voice is raised ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry!” comes the muffled response. It goes ignored.

Wait. That means… “Wait, he was right?”

Dongju blinks at him. “My brother wouldn’t lie to you about that. That’s mean. Not even  _ I _ would do that.”

“I know that, but he could have been—”

“Wrong?” Dongju snorts. “Unlikely. We grew up together, we live together, and we talk all the time. Also, I’m not exactly shy about it.” He smiles, just a little, but it’s genuine— one side tilts a little higher than the other, and the corners of his eyes are crinkled, and Geonhak knows the shape of it by heart, could probably trace it in his sleep. “I was getting tired of waiting for you to catch on, but I didn’t know how to ramp it up without giving you some kind of malfunction.”

“So you…” Geonhak can’t believe it. Seriously? 

“Yes, hyung. I like you too,” Dongju confirms, smiling a little wider. “But we don’t need to do anything. If you aren’t ready yet, we can pretend this never happened.”

Geonhak frowns. “But don’t you want—”

“Of course I want it,” says Dongju, so dismissively, so reflexively, that there’s no room for Geonhak to doubt him at all. “But I know you weren’t prepared to confess to me yet. That’s why I haven’t pushed for anything, even if I was trying to flirt more obviously. I want you to be comfortable with it. I am. And if you aren’t yet…” Dongju lifts and drops one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I can wait. I don’t mind.” 

Dongju shifts his hand so it brushes up against Geonhak’s, uncharacteristically tentative, and Geonhak sucks in a sharp breath, staring down at the point of contact with wide eyes. He doesn’t pull away; just quietly sucks more air into his lungs and then breathes it out, along with the rest of his tension. This is fine. This is more than fine. 

He twists their pinkies together, and allows himself a small grin of satisfaction.

“Hyung, you have to answer me, you know,” says Dongju, curling his pinky a little tighter around Geonhak’s. Geonhak looks at their intertwined fingers for a second longer, then raises his gaze to meet Dongju’s. “What do you want to do? I’m going to follow your lead here, so you have to, you know, actually lead.”

“Oi, don’t be a brat,” mutters Geonhak, pinching at Dongju’s thigh with his free hand before jerking it back so Dongju can’t grab it to take a bite out of it.

Because he really would do that. Even now, after they’ve just confessed their feelings for each other.

Dongju glares at him, taking a little chomp out of the air like some kind of warning. Abruptly, his face clears, and he just smiles serenely. 

It’s suspicious, and it sets off at least ten different alarms in Geonhak’s head, but he’s being held hostage here (that it’s only by a single finger, and that he’s most certainly stronger than Dongju, is  _ irrelevant _ ), so he has no choice but to sit and just… accept it, when Dongju says, “But hyung, I’m pretty sure you get a boner when I’m a brat?”

Geonhak wants to die. “I— I do  _ not _ .” Fuck. He’s definitely red as a tomato right now, right up to his ears. He can feel it.

Dongju giggles. “Uh huh. Sure. I believe you.”

That’s false. That’s  _ so _ false. Geonhak hates it. 

“So?” Dongju prompts again, jostling at their hands. “Is tonight going to be a date, or do we forget the last five minutes?”

“I think…” says Geonhak, quietly. “I think I’d like to— to have it be a date.”

Dongju positively  _ beams _ . Geonhak wishes he’d been a little less willfully dense the last few months. If he had gotten his shit together sooner, he could have seen Dongju glow like this so much earlier.

At least now, he sees it. Some higher power loves him more than he deserves.

“You know what,” says Dongju, hopping up from his seat. “Why wait? Let’s get a head start and have an extra long date, right, hyung?” He drags Geonhak to his feet and shoves him in the direction of the rooms. “Go get changed already. Hurry, hurry!”

Geonhak stumbles, and flicks at Dongju in irritation, but ultimately, he has no choice but to obey. He heads into Dongju’s room and locates his overnight bag, and thankfully, the outfit he’d packed is a decent one— more than once, when meaning to sleep at Youngjo’s, he’d only brought sweats or a track suit with him, which is usually fine when he’s just taking the bus home, but definitely  _ not _ first date material. This time, he’s relieved to find he actually packed a decent pair of ripped jeans and one of his favorite T-shirts.

He gets changed into them quickly enough, knowing that if Dongju gets impatient enough,he won’t hesitate to just come inside, regardless of what state of decency Geonhak might be in. He can hear the twins bickering outside; well, mostly, it was Dongju laying into Dongmyeong, and Dongmyeong weakly trying to defend himself.

That’s another reason to move fast, he supposes. Dongju tends to latch onto things that piss him off, and Geonhak’s one of the few people who knows how to calm him down and get him to let it go, whatever it may be. Ironically, Dongmyeong’s one of them too, but clearly the knowledge is no help when  _ you’re _ the one Dongju’s ire is directed at.

He feels kind of bad. Dongmyeong was just trying to help them both, and really, mostly Geonhak. He makes a mental note to bring Dongmyeong back some sort of treat later.

After one last check that he looks decent, and running his hand through his hair in an attempt to make it a little more presentable, Geonhak steps out into the hall.

“Dongju,” he says, quietly, cutting into whatever lecture Dongju is making. “I think he gets it.” He smiles slightly, and he can practically see Dongju melt a little in the face of it, edges softening, muscles relaxing. “Go easy on him, hm?” Geonhak adds, ruffling Dongju’s hair.

Dongju hesitates, but in the end, he huffs. “Fine,” he mutters, pouting. “But I’m going to finish off that nice hot chocolate mix of his as revenge. The one he’s been saving.” Dongmyeong whimpers, but doesn’t protest, so he flounces off to the kitchen, presumably to steal the aforementioned mix and tuck it away for later.

“You’re lucky it worked out,” Geonhak tells Dongmyeong, eyebrows raised.

Dongmyeong’s chuckles, but he doesn’t look nervous at all. “I knew it would,” he says. “Not exactly like that, obviously, but… I knew it would end well. You like each other too much for it not to work.”

“Geonhakie-hyung!” yells Dongju, from somewhere by the entrance. “Let’s go! I want to take a nice romantic walk and then make out with you on the beach so we’re just short of public indecency! Come  _ on _ .”

Geonhak chokes on his own spit, and Dongmyeong, alarmed, starts smacking at his back, though there’s nothing to dislodge. It takes a few seconds before Geonhak can pull himself together enough to swat Dongmyeong away from him.

“Dongju—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” says Dongju, sticking his head back into the hallway. Lower, he adds, “Mostly,” but Geonhak… is going to pretend he didn’t hear that. For his own sanity. 

“I know you’re too shy for that,” continues Dongju. “But I do want to go to the beach. And walk a lot. And come home late so we can have a long date. Or not too late— actually, yeah, not too late. I do want to make out. If you want to. We can do it here at home, right? So you won’t be embarrassed? We can kick Dongmyeong out—”

“Hey!”

Without looking, Dongju grabs at the knob of his brother’s door and shuts it in Dongmyeong’s face.

“—okay? Geonhakie-hyung?”

“Okay,” Geonhak says, which is a lie. It isn’t okay. He has no idea what’s going on anymore; it feels like the entire world was pulled out from beneath his feet, and now he’s just kinda floating aimlessly through the void of space, and slowly running out of air. 

It’s not… a bad feeling, though. It’ll take some getting used to, sure, but Geonhak thinks he likes it. Loves it, even.

Dongju links their arms together, grumbling something about Geonhak being a useless gay and needing to  _ move _ already, and starts dragging him out of the apartment.

And if they’re both grinning, jostling at each other more gently than they normally would, well…

That’s their business.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on twitter @withusangie (I'm currently inactive though), and also! I made a discord server for weus and atiny writers! feel free to join us!
> 
> https://discord.gg/rdBGCGU


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